


Interlude: Diversionary Tactics

by Eressë (eresse21)



Series: Greenleaf and Imladris [15]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-01-27
Packaged: 2018-01-10 03:29:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1154257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eresse21/pseuds/Eress%C3%AB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ancient path is no place for a future king of Men to tread and Elladan is tasked with diverting young Aragorn from it. Fifteenth story in a series chronicling the millennia-spanning relationship of Legolas and Elrohir from the moment they meet beneath the eaves of Greenwood the Great to the years of the War of the Ring and beyond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interlude: Diversionary Tactics

**Author's Note:**

> _The characters belong to the wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offence is intended or profit made in my use of them._
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> Think of this as a short breather after the gravity of _Crucible of Love_. This is also the first of the stories set within the timeline of events in _The Hobbit_ and LotR. The finding of the One Ring by Bilbo Baggins and the Battle of the Five Armies took place in T.A. 2940.

Imladris, _Viressë_ T.A. 2947  
“He is too attached to Elrohir.”

Elladan looked up curiously upon hearing his father’s comment. They were in Lord Elrond’s study, going over correspondence. From time to time, Elladan and his twin brother, Elrohir, took turns helping their father in the administration of Rivendell’s affairs. This afternoon, it was the older twin’s turn.

“Who is?” he asked, shifting to observe his father.

Elrond stood by the wide window overlooking the garden, a letter he’d been reading forgotten for the moment in his hand.

“Estel.”

Elladan raised an eyebrow in some surprise.

“He always has been,” he remarked. “Why do you deem it unusual now?”

Elrond glanced briefly at his older son before nodding in the direction of whatever he observed beyond the window.

“His regard has grown over the years,” he said. “I fear it may turn unseemly if ‘tis not discouraged.”

Elladan rose from behind his father’s desk. He had been answering several letters for Elrond. He joined the elder Peredhel at the window and looked out.

Several yards away on the lush verdant lawn, Legolas dueled with Estel while Elrohir stood just behind the lad, correcting his stance or grip or stroke every now and then. With each gently voiced instruction, Estel would look at him in patent adoration. Elladan had to smile. Arathorn’s son had not changed in his regard for the younger twin since the day he first laid eyes on him as a two-year-old.

His storm blue eyes went on to study his twin and their Mirkwood friend. It was heartening to see that their bond in friendship if not in love was not only restored but also stronger than ever. After the near severance of that friendship eight years ago, Elladan could only pray such a tragedy would not befall them again. In particular, he was grateful his brother’s blithe spirit was returned for now. Though there were times Elladan would wonder for how long, worry nipping annoyingly at the fringes of his musings. He brushed the disquieting thoughts aside and returned to the matter at hand. 

“Why does it trouble you that he esteems Elrohir so highly?” he queried.

Elrond sighed. “If he were an Elf, I would not mark it. But Estel must one day wed and sire heirs. The line of Elendil must not fail just because his latest descendant decides to tread the ancient path.”

Elladan stared at his father incredulously. “But Estel is no Elf,” he said. “He is a Man. He would not care for the ancient path.”

“And can we be so certain of this?” Elrond pointed out. “Not only has he been raised in Imladris, he is of our blood, heir of my brother’s house. Who can know that the duality of our nature does not run in his veins?” He looked out the window once more.

Estel had dropped his sword in jubilation after managing to defend himself against one of Legolas’s trickier strokes. He now threw his arms around the Elf-knight, grinning with great pride at having accomplished this before his adored foster-brother.

“He has had little exposure to women and certainly there are none now in Imladris who might tempt him away from your brother’s attractions,” Elrond commented. “Iörwen is wed to Ailios, Almáriel is all but promised to Daurin and there are no Elf-women in all the vale who are still unbound or unbetrothed. What if the duality merely slumbers within him and should awaken through Elrohir? Would you have the line of the Kings come to an end because of this?”

Elladan pursed his lips, watching as the youth continued to stay close by his twin, nearly every other glance or smile directed at Elrohir with palpable worship.

“I see what you mean,” he remarked. And then he grinned. “Very well, _Ada_ , I will take it upon myself to wean him from Elrohir’s considerable charms.”

Elrond looked sharply at him. “And what do you have in mind?”

“I think a visit to the Bree-land is in order,” the older twin smirked. “I know someone in Staddle who may be of assistance in this matter.”

His father raised a dubious eyebrow at him. “I am sure you do,” he said wryly. “I will entrust this endeavor to you, _gwaniuar_. But remember, Estel’s identity must not be revealed. I would that none even know he hails from Imladris.”

“You need not worry about that,” Elladan assured him. “None know who Elrohir and I really are and we have frequented the Bree inns for centuries.”

Elrond snorted. “I do not think I want to know why you frequent them,” he said. 

Elladan laughed. “Now, _Ada_ , you know that I have been chaste for many a year. Nimeithel would not be pleased were I to so lightly break my promise to her. Elrohir however...” He grinned. “‘Twill be a simple matter to seek one of his, er, close acquaintances and ask for this favor.” 

Elrond barely refrained from rolling his eyes. “Just keep in mind that Estel is but a lad and mortal besides,” he counseled. “I will not have him returned to Imladris worn out from over exertion!”

Elladan chuckled at his father’s succinct reminder of his former exertions.

oOoOoOo

“I do not understand why we must travel all the way to Staddle when The Forsaken Inn is perfectly comfortable,” Estel grumbled as he and Elladan rode down the Great East Road toward the Bree-land.

“Because The Forsaken Inn, while perfectly comfortable as you say, does not have what I have in mind for you,” Elladan replied mildly.

“And just what do you have in mind for me, _gwanur_?”—brother—Estel asked a little testily. “What is so important about this trip that you would not have Elrohir come with us?”

Elladan smiled faintly at the boy. At sixteen, Estel was as comely as any Elf-lad. He was taller than most human youths and possessed of the slender form and easy grace of his Elven forebears. Eventually, of course, he would gain the more muscular build of his race but he would never be as brawny as the impetuous Rohirrim or even his own Dúnedain kin. He was, after all, of the line of Elros and through him a direct descendant of the Elvenkings of Doriath and Gondolin.

“Elrohir would only hinder the lesson I must teach you,” Elladan said cryptically. At Estel’s suspicious scowl, he grinned and said, “Oh, come now, surely you trust me to seek what is best for you. Or is Elrohir your only brother?”

At that, the scowl faded to be replaced by a look both dismayed and penitent.

“I am sorry, Elladan!” he exclaimed. “I did not mean to imply that I trust you less than Elrohir!”

Elladan chuckled. “I know, _tôr neth_. But prove it now by questioning me no more about my plans for you.”

Estel gulped and nodded. He did trust Elladan. It was just that he had heard enough tales of the twins’ earlier escapades to make him just the least bit worried about what his Elven brother had in store for him. 

“Oh, by the way, you will go by the name of Arnur and say you are from Esgaroth,” Elladan added.

“Why must I—?”

“Trust me wholly or not at all,” the warrior mildly chided him. Estel bit back his questions though his thoughts milled about in wary confusion. 

They arrived in Staddle that evening, Estel a little worn out by the long ride and envious of Elladan’s seemingly inexhaustible energy. To think they had camped only thrice and briefly at that on their way here. Well, what did he expect, traveling with his Elf-brother? He sighed as he dismounted in the courtyard before the Inn of the – he squinted at the rather faded sign – Golden Stag. Ha! There was nothing golden about this questionable establishment, he decided, his mouth forming a scowl.

Not for the last time did he wish he were back home in Rivendell. With Elrohir. But he could not turn down Elladan’s invitation to join him on this rather mysterious trip. Particularly when his _Ada_ Elrond made it clear that he wanted him to go.

They entered the dim premises. Cloaked and hooded, they appeared as any traveller passing through this once important neck of the woods. Except of course for Elladan’s exceptional height and the grace with which he and Estel carried themselves. Nevertheless, little attention was paid to them by the other denizens of the common room. That is, until Elladan let down his hood, revealing his countenance. Almost at once, eyes snapped to him in patent fascination.

“ _Gilgon!!!_ ”

Estel nearly jumped a foot in the air at the passionate shriek. He stared gapingly at the buxom young woman who hurried across the crowded room, swept Elladan into an ardent embrace and bestowed a most lustful kiss on him. She pulled back to look at him, the admiration in her eyes bordering on covetous.

“Hello, Miradeth,” Elladan grinned. “You haven’t aged a day since last we met, beauteous one.”

“Flatterer!” she purred. “And you are more magnificent than I remember, my lord Elf.” She eyed him salaciously. “Will I get to see if my memory serves me right?”

Estel listened to their exchange goggle-eyed. He knew of his foster-brothers’ carnal exploits but to hear of them was one thing. To see evidence of it was another. This woman was just about ready to pounce on Elladan and he did not doubt that had they been in a more private setting, the deed would have been done as soon as the Elf-lord had revealed himself.

He watched a little anxiously as Elladan drew the woman aside. She was handsome, he had to admit, though by no means refined in any way. But that was unfair, of course. He could hardly compare a mortal female to the Elf-women of Rivendell. And this one was no lady at all but a – a tart. That was the kindest word he could think of.

Elladan, meanwhile, was buttering up said tart with the most outrageous compliments he could think of. And Miradeth lapped it up. How could she not when she was being flattered by the most comely being ever to grace the common room of the inn?

“I am pleased to see your establishment doing so well,” Elladan said at length. “I trust many of my kindred have patronized it as well?”

Miradeth smiled. “Aye, you and your brother did me and my folk a good turn, telling others about the Golden Stag. We sometimes get more Elves here than even the Prancing Pony over at Bree!” She said this with no little pride. “Are you staying the night, my lord?” she added hopefully.

He grinned. “ _We_ are staying.”

The emphasis on “we” propelled her attention to Estel. The boy had drawn back his hood as well, revealing his comely features. Miradeth’s eyes gleamed with sudden interest.

“He is not an Elf,” she remarked.

“Nay, he is not.”

“But handsome enough to pass for one.”

“Ah, so you noticed.”

She looked at him curiously, catching his suggestive tone.

“What have you got in mind?” she asked bluntly.

Elladan laughed. “That is what I like about you,” he smiled. “You always cut to the chase.” He glanced at Estel. “He is still innocent. _Too_ innocent.”

Miradeth regarded the now obviously nervous lad. And then she looked back at Elladan, a patently predatory smile curving her lips. 

“I take it you would have him a little less so before you return home?” she cooed.

“Aye, if you would take him under your wing.”

“And how long am I to keep him under my wing?”

Elladan chuckled. “As long as you need to teach him what you know. Think yourself up to it?” he teased.

She drew herself up to her full height, which still did not bring her much higher than his chin. 

“The question should be, is _he_ up to it?” she rejoined smugly.

Elladan laughed out loud, causing Estel to fidget even more. What in Arda was his older brother hatching with that floozy? And why did he have a sinking feeling that it involved him?

Elladan finally returned to him, still smirking at Miradeth’s last, rather lubricious comments. Estel wasted no time demanding some answers.

“Who is she?” he asked. “And why did she call you Gilgon?”

“Miradeth’s cousins run this inn and she helps them... entertain their more distinguished guests,” Elladan replied. “Gilgon is the name Elrohir uses in these parts. I am known as Ergil.”

Estel blinked, more puzzled than ever. “Then why did you lead her to believe that you are Elrohir?”

“Because, my inquisitive _pen neth_ , ‘tis Elrohir who has been bedding her these past years, not I. I could hardly ask a favor of her if I had not been intimate with her before, now could I?”

“What favor?” Estel queried suspiciously.

“You will see,” Elladan said, mirth edging his voice. “Now, shall we have supper? Miradeth requires some time to prepare.’

“Prepare what?” Estel asked, getting more and more anxious by the minute.

But Elladan merely hauled him over to an empty table and ordered a light repast for two. He continued to badger his reticent brother but when bowls of steaming stew and a loaf of crusty bread were set before them, he forgot his resolve. Two tankards of foaming beer later, he had found the wherewithal to relax as well. 

He was completely at ease when Elladan glanced toward the stairs then turned to grin at him and say, “She is ready for you, _pen neth_.”—young one.

Estel’s smile abruptly vanished and he looked tremulously towards the stairs, glimpsing a flash of skirts on the landing.

“Ready for me?” he near squeaked.

Elladan rose and pulled him up as well, eyed gleaming wickedly. “Aye, for you,” he said. “There are swords other than those found on the field of battle. ‘Tis time you learned to wield yours. Now remember, you are Arnur of Esgaroth.”

With that, he propelled the hapless boy up the stairs and along the upper floor corridor to keep his rendezvous with enlightenment.

oOoOoOo

Some days later, the two were once more on the East Road headed back for home. It was a lovely spring day, the woods along the road lush with flora and foliage, the treetops resounding with trilling birdcalls, the air redolent with the fresh scent of new growth. A fitting match for Estel’s mellow mood.

Elladan grinned at the somewhat dopey smile on his young charge’s face. There had been no surcease of such felicitous expressions since he’d been released from Miradeth’s tutelage just that very morning. At least she did not wear him out too much, the Elf-lord snickered to himself. And the boy certainly had endurance. Four days running and with only a few brief breaks for sustenance and bathing. Not bad for a mortal of only sixteen summers. 

“Elladan?”

“Hm?”

“Why her?”

A sable eyebrow rose in amusement. “I do not recall you complaining about her... methods.”

Estel blushed deeply. “Nay, I did not mean to suggest that she was lacking,” he protested. “But why did you choose her? Surely there are villages that lie closer to Imladris and with as many willing maids, too.”

“Ah, but I thought you would appreciate learning your bed-manners from her,” he chuckled. “Considering that Elrohir has ever been your guide in almost all matters.”

Estel screwed up his face in bemusement. “What does that have to do with this?”

“Everything, _tôr neth_. ‘Twas Elrohir who broke her in so to speak.”

Estel stared at him. “You mean he—?”

“Was her bed-teacher, aye. And he has oft said that she was one of his most dedicated and able students. So you see, you reaped what he had previously sown. You might say he taught you through her.”

It took Estel a few minutes to remember to close his mouth, which had formed into an awed “O.” And then he gasped and blurted out: “No wonder she—!” He stopped short, his cheeks reddening.

Elladan chortled as the boy’s blush deepened further. “Pray continue.”

Estel hesitated then realized that nothing he could say could possibly shock either of his jaded foster-brothers. He sighed and explained, “She did something for me that she said she never did with others. She said it was, um, special because of Gilgon – I mean Elrohir. But because you – that is because she thought you were Elrohir – because you asked her to teach me, she did it for me.” 

“And just what did she do?” Elladan inquired curiously.

Estel was now positively crimson with embarrassment. “She, um, got on top and she – moved – rather vigorously and she was quite – noisy. She said that whenever she did it with Elrohir she would liken him to a wild stallion and – and imagine herself an Elf-rider!”

For one full minute, Elladan gazed at him, eyes widening in ever growing hilarity. And then he burst out laughing, his shoulders heaving almost violently. After a while, Estel found he could not contain his own mirth. Before long, the Great East Road rang with their contagious laughter and many a bird and beast looked upon them in patent wonder and perplexity.

oOoOoOo

“Well, _Ada_ , have I diverted him enough?”

Elrond glanced at his irrepressible older son and had to smile. 

They were out on the archery yard. Elrohir, with Legolas’s assistance, was instructing Estel while Elrond and Elladan looked on. 

It was now two weeks since Estel’s adventure in Staddle. Elrohir had been nonplussed when he learned of the nature of Estel’s trip with Elladan and questioned the propriety of introducing the boy to such heady delights way before his majority. Hardly had he been appeased by Elrond’s assurances that Men did not forbid the early initiation of their male youth into the love-arts when he discovered Elladan’s deception in regards to his identity. That had elicited an entirely different reaction. 

Elrohir knew the unquenchable Miradeth would not be satisfied with the generous fee Elladan had slipped her and he promptly vowed never to visit Staddle again lest the voracious woman demand compensation of another sort for Estel’s lessons. Peredhel he may be but she had enough energy to outlast any three Elves!

“I never thought you would stoop to paying for another’s favors,” Legolas had tartly commented.

To which Elrohir had retorted, “‘Tis others who seek my favors and would willingly pay any price I named for the privilege!”

A lesser Elf would have quailed at the expression on the Mirkwood prince’s face but Elrohir was not and did not and only grinned smugly at his friend. This delighted Estel no end and roused Elladan’s oft thought opinion that the Wood-elf knew next to nothing about the elven heart and even less about his own.

Elrond observed his foster-son keenly once more. 

Estel’s eyes still sought out the Elf-knight ever so often. But there was no longer a tinge of anything other than clear hero-worship and the deep affection of a younger brother. And the lad had hinted to Elladan that he would not be opposed to other trips outside the valley for purposes of furthering his education.

With a satisfied smile, Elrond looked at his older son and said, “More than enough, _gwaniuar_. More than enough.”

**************************************  
Glossary:  
Viressë - Quenya for April  
Ada – Papa  
gwaniuar – older twin  
gwanur – ‘brother’ or ‘sister’ but a more accurate translation would be kinsman or kinswoman  
tôr neth – young brother 

_End of Part XV._

**Author's Note:**

> _Part XVI: Strange Fates – The One Ring has come to Rivendell. The twins and Legolas must grapple with decisions that may ultimately seal their fates._


End file.
